


Comfort

by TheCityLightShow



Series: Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (But mostly comfort), Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8196466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCityLightShow/pseuds/TheCityLightShow
Summary: He finds a sweatshirt folded up on his bed. He frowns – it hadn't been there when he left, but it is quite obviously just a sweatshirt with a little note on top.
It's in Stark's unmistakable scrawl – stop leaving your shit in my lab Steven – and that only confuses Bucky more. Surely Stark knows better than anyone the layout of the tower, of each floor? But he's left it in the wrong room.
Bucky picks it up with the full intention of returning it to Stevie's room, but the fabric jostles as he does and the fucked-up serum in his system means he can smell it. It's somewhere between paper and something Steve-like, and grease or oil, something he only gets in Tony's workshop. They're out there, fighting, but for a second Bucky's brain can believe they're here, safe, with him.
 
   For the prompt: something with Bucky and sweatshirts





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EuterpesChild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuterpesChild/gifts).



> Yet another prompt for the delightful Euterpeschild, who recently went through and edited all my fics on here (thank you <3). 
> 
> This prompt was: something with Bucky and sweatshirts.

It takes Bucky longer than he would've liked to feel comfortable in the Tower. No matter how many times he maps out the hallways, the vents, the gaps in camera coverage, and tests Jarvis (who was amused yet patient about the entire thing, in a way that only an AI made by Stark could), he constantly feels like his skin is crawling and cold is seeping in no matter how high the heating went – that is, until, the first Avengers call he pays witness to.

It had been something close to a miracle that there hadn't been one in the three months Bucky has been at the Tower, sequestered in the guest room on Stevie's floor, but that doesn't mean he's in any way prepared to watch them troop off (or fly off, in Stark's case) to fight a war.

He returns to his room from the common floor when he can't take watching on the TV any more, and finds a sweatshirt folded up on his bed. He frowns – it hadn't been there when he left, but it is quite obviously just a sweatshirt with a little note on top.

It's in Stark's unmistakable scrawl – _stop leaving your shit in my lab Steven_ – and that only confuses Bucky more. Surely Stark knows better than anyone the layout of the tower, of each floor? But he's left it in the wrong room.

Bucky picks it up with the full intention of returning it to Stevie's room, but the fabric jostles as he does and the fucked-up serum in his system means he can _smell_ it. It's somewhere between paper and something Steve-like, and grease or oil, something he only gets in Tony's workshop. They're out there, fighting, but for a second Bucky's brain can believe they're here, safe, with him.

He falls asleep on the bed, curled up around the sweatshirt. In the afternoon, when the Avengers are still debriefing, Bucky refolds it and places it on Steve's bed, the note still on top.

 

It happens again – this time, Stevie and the Avengers are attending a gala to help raise money for some foundation Stark runs. Stark hangs off Stevie's arm as they pile into the car, and Bucky's not sure which one he's jealous of any more. He retreats to his room once he's waved them off, salutes Pepper in a manner so close to who he used to be that she blushes beneath her grin, and pulls a tub of ice cream out of the freezer.

The sweatshirt is slung over the couch. It's Stark's this time – smaller, darker, and namely not blue. It's got that same mushed-up scent, and Bucky doesn't pause to think about how, just picks it up and takes comfort in it, ignoring how pathetic he's being.

He throws the sweatshirt at Stark when they return, tells him to keep an eye on his stuff, and misses the triumphant grin he shoots Steve.

 

And it goes on. Steve and Tony (Bucky still finds the permission weird, but Tony pulls out puppy eyes when Bucky calls him Stark, now) dance around their relationship like they're not in it, and Bucky gets left a sweatshirt whenever the team has to leave. He's worn Clint's hoody too, but mostly it's something of Steve or Tony's and he can no longer pretend it's an accident. He knows why he _likes_ it, but he doesn't understand why they're doing it – and it's them, both of them as a team, which makes so _little_ sense that Bucky wants to pull his hair out.

But he ignores it. If he questions it, it might stop.

He's not sure he could cope with that.

 

Tony starts inviting him to the workshop more, to movie nights and such. Bucky finds his time filled with Tony and tinkering and testing, or Steve and sparring and Culture Catch-up Club. They fill his days with laughter, and he hopes he's returning the favour. He feels more like himself than he has in decades, sat between the two of them on movie night, loving and hating how warm they are pressed against his sides.

He hates himself for needing them when they already have each other, sweatshirts, warmth, laughter and all, but not enough to stop.

 

He's not giving this one back.

He should, he knows he should, but something about it makes him feel warm inside, so when he takes it off it gets hidden in the bottom of his wardrobe. For a while he pretends he didn't do that, didn't effectively steal one of Steve's sweatshirts, but then they're called away on a week-long mission and _fuck_ Bucky just feels alone.

So he pulls out the sweatshirt – Steve's, blue, still has his scent and “Property of Tony Stark” emblazoned on the chest – he puts it on, hating it and loving it, and curls up to sleep. He tries and he tries, and eventually he drifts off.

 

“I told you this one would work.” Tony's voice is a quiet wisp in the silence of Bucky's room, and Bucky forces his breathing to remain even.

“You never wooed me with clothes.” Steve complains – they're in the doorway, Bucky thinks – and he sounds more like he's teasing.

“No, I wooed you with foreign food and fancy body armour.” Tony replies, and earns a quiet laugh in return. “We should ask him tomorrow, I think.” Tony whispers – and he's nervous, Bucky notes, and wonders why? What could they possibly want to ask Bucky that has him letting down the mask of confidence he parades?

“Sure...” Steve speaks softly. “I- thank you, Tony. For everything.” Tony merely hums, and silence falls for a moment. All Bucky can hear is his own breathing, but he needs something more, silently pleads for the two of them not to move away-

“You're not the only one who loves him at this point.” Tony tells him after a long moment, and Bucky swears his heart stops. He thinks back over months of sweatshirts and laughter days, looks at them in the way he wishes he wouldn't with the objectiveness of the Winter Solider and holy hell, Tony's not... not lying.

_I love you too_ , he thinks to himself, and only realises he'd whispered it aloud into the pillow by the twin gasps from the doorway. He freezes, hope they might pass it off as him muttering in his sleep – but Stevie's known him so long, knows that he doesn't do that.

Weight settles down on either side of him on the bed – holy shit they barely fit – Tony lying down facing him and Steve curling up against his back. Bucky watches as Tony lies down next to him, only breathing again when Steve hesitantly curls an arm around his waist and Tony presses a kiss to his nose. He grins at the touch, delighting in the smile he gets in return.

“That sweatshirt looks good on you,” Tony tells him to Steve's little hum of agreement. Bucky smiles and tugs the genius closer; presses back a little against Stevie.

 

He sleeps easier than he has in decades.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to give me a prompt, send me an ask at my **[tumblr](http://thecitylightshow.tumblr.com/)** , and I'll get to it soon!


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